


Download My Mixtape

by fiordilatte



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Radio, Bad Flirting, Bad Pick-Up Lines, Lemrina is a bro, M/M, Music, Slaine is a hipster
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 06:05:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4908190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiordilatte/pseuds/fiordilatte
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>DJ and aspiring music producer Slaine Troyard helps host an indie radio show in order to make ends meet.  In between working long hours and dealing with a <i>certain</i> persistent caller, he’s also trying to get his debut EP out to the mainstream.  He really needs to get signed with a record label.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. DISC 01

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HybridRainbow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HybridRainbow/gifts).



> My first fic trade ever! Sorry it took like 500 years, I was researching unnecessary details as usual. Sub-titles are from electronic songs in my music library. Just for reference, [this is a launchpad in action](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UduVSHTn8Dw) (Slaine’s backlights are full RGB though~). So cool right!! He could’ve used any controller, I just really like launchpads… I wonder why :D
> 
> Trade prompt: Inaho calling Sassy Radio Show Host Slaine, trying to pick him up.

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**[You’re listening to the Martian Invasion Station!!]**

“This has been Lemrina and Slaine! Tune in tomorrow morning to catch us live again!”

“And that is a wrap,” Slaine Troyard concluded, switching his microphone off and resting his head on his co-host’s shoulder. “I’m exhausted!”

“Drinks are on you tonight,” Lemrina said unsympathetically, giving him a pat on the arm.

“It’s the least I can do,” he replied, with a cheerful laugh. “Today was tough. Could you listen to my new demo before we head out, though? I want your opinion before I make any changes. Your parts came out really nicely!”

His father always said that he had a good voice, and it was his passion for music that had led him down this career path. Speaking on mic was pretty easy, and he had a natural charisma that drew in listeners. It had just… ended up being a different kind of music from what everyone had expected.

All Slaine wanted was to make his own kind of music, but it was hard to get his break. It wasn’t as though he could just produce one song and make it - he had to have hits first, a recognizable personality, style. The industry was filled with fierce competition, and he’d been dreaming to get signed with a big record label like Vers or UFE since he’d started.

It would have been so easy if he’d followed his father. He was the great Dr. Troyard’s son, and it haunted him wherever he went. All that opportunity had been laid out in front of him on a silver platter from the very beginning; he just had to get an agent and sign, then he’d be set.

Unfortunately, Slaine didn’t want to do it the easy way - he wanted to do it _his_ way. He wanted to be a DJ, wanted to produce for superstar singers like Asseylum Vers Allusia someday, wanted to headline tours and play for sold out stadiums.

Or, well, even be an opening act for someone, for a start. That would be nice.

“What do you think?” he asked his co-host, as the song ended. He felt anxious. His friend was never afraid to pick him apart, if he deserved it. “Should I compress it? Speed it up? More sugar? Less sugar?”

“It’s amazing,” Lemrina told him, pulling her headphones off, “and you need to stop second guessing yourself.”

Slaine couldn’t help it. Everyone seemed to be a twenty-something musical genius these days. What made him special? What set him apart from the rest?

He had to prove himself, based solely on his abilities. He didn’t want to be a pity case riding on his father’s coattails. He wanted to make it because he was actually good. His father had told him to stop being so stubborn, and maybe he’d been right, but Slaine was dead set on forging his own path.

As a result, he hadn’t spoken to his father in months - they weren’t estranged, necessarily, but their differences in opinion had been discouragingly black and white. They hadn’t been able to see eye to eye for quite some time, and he’d quit working under his father’s guidance about a year ago. He only kept a pair of headphones as a memento.

Right now, though, he couldn’t even get people to listen to his demos, let alone find someone willing to sign him. Slaine was used to rejection, but after months of struggling to pay rent, it had become an all too familiar tune.

He found himself at a bit of a standstill for now, and at twenty-three years old with nothing special to show to the world, Slaine was starting to feel disheartened. But he refused to go crawling back.

He would always have Lemrina on his side. When he’d met her last year at a remix contest, things finally seemed to make sense, and even when his career seemed especially bleak, Slaine knew he wasn’t completely alone.

Ah, Lemrina Vers Envers, the illegitimate granddaughter of the founder of the Vers Records corporation. Also his boss. And best friend. (And the only person in the world who listened to his music all the way through.)

They rebelled against their upbringings, and tried to tackle the music industry on their own terms. She had knowledge on the inner workings of the industry and all its politics, and he had the dedication and technical skill to produce the tracks. They’d quickly learned that they did their best work together, and Lemrina had asked him to join her radio station as co-host. He’d agreed in a heartbeat, knowing it would get him some experience and much-needed exposure.

Lemrina planned to build her own empire in the music industry, and Slaine would do his best to help her. She wanted to see Vers Records fall. He just wanted to get signed somewhere. But to do either of those things, they needed to make names for themselves, and that meant branching out from Lemrina’s basement suite studio.

In the meantime, being an unsigned indie electro DJ sort of sucked.

 

* * *

 

**[Vacation Wasteland]**

“Ahh! I’m so sorry!” The apology flew out of his mouth just as he hurtled to the ground, cardboard box and all of its contents crashing along with him.

Slaine picked himself up from the sidewalk and hastily checked to see if the other person was all right, leaning down and proffering his hand to the boy he’d just run into headfirst.

“A-Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” his victim, a slightly shorter boy with neat brown hair, assured him, standing up and brushing his blazer off. He was dressed very professionally, particularly in contrast to Slaine, almost as if he was going to a business meeting. This guy couldn’t have been any older than he was, though, which made it even more strange.

“I’m so glad!” he exclaimed in relief. “I should have been more careful.”

The other boy watched indifferently as Slaine fumbled with the stack of vinyl records and CDs that had spilled out onto the sidewalk. Lemrina had a turntable that he liked to play with occasionally, although they usually stuck with digital files for the majority of the songs they broadcasted online. But sometimes analog was cool, too.

“I really am sorry,” he repeated, still feeling guilty, as he hoisted the heavy duty cardboard box back up into his arms. “I’m running late for my show, and my co-host is going to kill me if I don’t get there on time!”

“What kind of show is it?” The brunet didn’t seem very interested, so Slaine assumed he was just being polite.

It didn’t hurt to spread the word, though. Maybe this guy had an in somewhere.

“I host an Internet radio show with my friend! We’re called the Martian Invasion Station. She thought of the name.” He fiddled with a loose flap on his box, and peered down at his copy of Asseylum Vers Allusia’s deluxe vinyl pressing, as if it was suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. Slaine had no problems speaking on broadcast with Lemrina, but still got a little flustered when it came to one-on-one conversations - which was never helpful when he was trying to promote his music. “I guess it’s a bit unusual, but we play some really good stuff! I’d love to have you tune in. If you have time, that is.”

The other boy tilted his head. “Are you a musician, too?”

He nodded eagerly, always keen to share music. “I’m a DJ!” That didn’t sound very impressive, so he corrected it to, “Or, well, a DJ trying to be a producer. I go by Slaine, if you want to check my songs out. I just released my latest mixtape a few days ago.” It had about twelve downloads, and Lemrina had been one of them, but he decided not to mention that. “I’m also working on an official EP!”

His muscles were starting to ache - the box was heavy and the strap of his ratty messenger bag was beginning to dig into his shoulder (why did his laptop and MIDI controllers have to weigh so much?!).

“I’ll have a listen when I get home,” the brunet said, in the same bored monotone that had Slaine wondering why he even bothered pretending to be interested.

Well, it was worth a shot, anyway. And now he was definitely not on time.

 

* * *

  

**[How About Now]**

“You’re late,” was the first thing Lemrina said, when Slaine stepped through her apartment door with his armful of vinyl records and mixing equipment.

“I’m really sorry!” he said sheepishly, shuffling over across the carpeted floor and setting his bag at the foot of the broadcast desk. He was apologizing a lot today. “I stayed up all night working on my new track for the Tharsis EP, then I bumped into a guy on my way over, and I managed to drop all my stuff - ”

“I don’t need to hear your excuses, just help me set up.” She was always so tough in the morning.

Slaine didn’t need to be asked twice, and immediately began prepping the microphones and making sure that they were set up to their mixer. He and Lemrina had a simple setup, though their desk was fairly cluttered, anyway: just a basic mixer with a few channels for their mics and music, a streaming computer, speakers so they could listen to the live playback of their broadcast, and a docking station for all the extra music that had been saved onto external hard drives. This was all hooked up to a single power supply behind the desk, and had been functioning for them pretty well over the past year. He’d probably need to detangle all the wires at some point, though. It was getting messy.

Lemrina leaned over to talk to him as he loaded their broadcast software onto the main computer monitor. Her tone softened. Marginally. “So, the guy - was he cute, at least? Do you think he’ll tune in? That’s how Slaine Troyard gets listeners, right? By running into people headfirst, then telling them about his mixtapes.”

He chuckled, and settled into his swivel chair as he flipped his laptop open. “Maybe, but it doesn’t seem to be his thing.”

“Shame. I sent some of your new demos in to UFE Records, by the way,” his friend added. “They said to follow up in a week. If they reject you, don’t take it personally, and always ask for feedback!”

“Thanks for doing that,” he said, spinning around in his chair to face her. “You didn’t have to.”

Lemrina folded her arms over her chest and fixed him with a piercing stare. “Well, you don’t exactly have the nerve to do it yourself, Slaine! So I took the initiative. They’re just as big as Vers, but slightly less corrupt, and they’re going to get even bigger over the next few years. They’ve gotten some great artists signed recently. You could be one of them, if you promoted yourself more.”

She was right, but he was scared. Lately, he’d been rejected by much smaller studios, and Slaine was getting skeptical about submitting sample music. He needed to improve his entire sound first, if not even independent record labels wanted to give him a chance. It was frustrating to want something so bad, to work so hard for it every single day, and to constantly be told that he wasn’t good enough.

Regardless, he couldn’t let personal issues get in the way of his job. So he loaded up the first track of the day and cleared his throat.

“Good morning! This is Slaine and Lemrina on the Martian Invasion Station, your favourite indie radio broadcast. This song is for the guy I crashed into on my way here. I really hope you’re not too mad!”

 

* * *

 

**[Wave Runner]**

During his break time, Slaine liked to work on mastering his tracks. He wasn’t set on a particular chain yet, so he always reviewed his songs with Lemrina throughout the process. Today wasn’t shaping out to be his day, and there was only misery in his mastering chains.

“Ugh. It sucks, doesn’t it?” Slaine said, pulling at his hair in frustration. The more he listened to it, the worse it sounded. The frequencies weren’t quite right, and the bass was overpowering at certain points. It also needed to be compressed for loudness, but he couldn’t tell where. He glowered at the interface of his digital audio workstation, and his project file stared right back at him. “It sucks, and I’m the worst composer in the world, and I’ll never produce anything that’s not mediocre.”

“Are you Slaine, or are you going to be known as Dr. Troyard’s kid forever?” Lemrina asked.

“I should have been a rapper just like him,” he muttered, not meaning it at all.

His friend scoffed. "You would never be happy if you did that. Besides…” she frowned suddenly, “I’d be lonely without you. You make things interesting. I wouldn’t be letting you use my vocal stems if I didn’t believe in you, Slaine. And I wouldn’t keep pushing you so hard if you weren’t good! You just need to get your foot in the door… you’re just - well, _we’re_ just stubborn, but we’ll get you there, I promise.”

He’d never cried in front of her before, but he felt like he very nearly would right now, as he sat hunched at his desk looping the same track for what seemed like the five hundredth time. He felt a lump form in his throat, and his glasses threatened to fog over. “I really, really want it, but I can’t see it happening. Some - Sometimes I just want to give up and throw everything away.”

“I love you very much, you know,” Lemrina told him calmly, wheeling her chair over so she could take his hand in her own, “and I will see you signed and making your music if it’s the last thing I do. So you can’t quit now.”

He gave her hand a grateful squeeze, and forced a smile. “What about the downfall of Vers? Your master plan?”

She giggled. “That goes hand in hand with your success, of course. They’ll be begging to sign you and you’ll tell them no, it’s too late, you should have listened to Lemrina when you had the chance.”

 

* * *

 

**[La Lune]**

“We have a caller,” his co-host said. Their office phone was ringing, and although Slaine could hardly hear it through his headset, he could definitely see the red call light flashing.

“I'll get it,” he volunteered, reaching over the messy, ever-growing stack of records and jewel cases in their cramped studio. (There was a nicely varnished wooden desk underneath all of their radio equipment, he just hadn’t seen it in months.) “Lemrina, can you handle queuing the tracklist for a bit? You have the best taste.” He smiled at his friend, then picked up the receiver. “Hi! You are our… seventh caller of the day! How’s it going? This is Slaine speaking, by the way.”

The boy on the other end had a very bland voice, and at first Slaine had trouble believing it wasn’t a pre-recorded message. “I’ve been tuning in for the past week, and I thought I’d listen to the mixtapes on your website.”

“R-Really?” He felt apprehensive. “What did you think?”

“I’m your biggest fan,” his caller proclaimed.

This guy sounded _extraordinarily_ unenthusiastic, but Slaine would take what he could get. A fan was a fan.

“Your tracks definitely have potential. The production quality is quite good - if you had better equipment, I think you could become commercial. Also, you have a nice voice.”

His heart skipped a beat, and a wide smile formed on his face. It wasn’t groundbreaking, but it was a tiny step, nonetheless.

“Have you sent demos in to any of the major labels?”

“Yeah,” Slaine said, playing with the mic stand, “Vers and UFE are the big ones, naturally, then Orbital Knights, Kataphrakt Records, and Sky Carrier Limited. No luck yet, but I’ll definitely keep trying!” He was determined, if nothing else.

“Good,” the other boy said. “That’s all I wanted to know.”

He felt strangely giddy, and he was smiling so hard that it hurt. Someone besides Lemrina actually liked his music?

 

* * *

 

**[Polygon Dust]**

_Dr. Troyard’s son is hot, but his songs suck. The only thing he can do is make mashups, and that doesn’t take any talent._

Every time he checked blog posts, it was the same. Everyone would comment on his looks (he had a decent headshot, thanks to Lemrina pulling favours from Vers for him), lament the fact that he wasn’t following in his father’s footsteps, then promptly dismiss his original tracks ten seconds into listening.

But it was classic 4/4 house! And Lemrina’s vocals were so good, professionally trained and as clear and smooth as glass. So if there was a problem, it had to be his fault. There had to be something off about his production. Slaine always blamed himself for the criticism - for someone hoping to make it, he had so many shortcomings.

“My father was with Vers for _years,_ but I can’t even get Internet bloggers to listen to my music?” he mumbled to himself, through a mouthful of his peanut butter sandwich. Even on good days, it was demoralizing. He took another contemplative bite and slumped over at his keyboard.

“Slaine, why are you reading that?” Lemrina demanded, glancing at his smartphone screen. “It’s all trash written by people who know nothing. We’ve already made that clear. Could you please answer the phone?”

He hurriedly closed out of the app and did as he was told, mouthing a quick apology to his friend. He’d just wanted to check, that was all.

“Hi, this is Slaine at the Martian Invasion Station, how are you today?”

“Hi, Slaine.” The voice was male, smooth, very polite. “I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed your remixes of Asseylum’s songs.”

“Oh, thank you!” Those were his most popular uploads, and they regularly played them on the show. “Her tracks are always so fun.”

“Also, I had a question,” his caller continued.

He nodded to himself, upping the volume of his mic. “For sure, fire away! That’s why we’re here.”

“I’ve been wondering, is Slaine just a stage name? It seems kind of aggressive for EDM.” 

He tried very hard not to sigh. No matter how nicely it was put, it would always be a sore subject.

“It’s my real name,” he said, seeing no point in lying, no matter how frustrating it was. “My father is Dr. Troyard, you know, he uh, he patented those studio headphones? Yeah, _that_ brand. Pretty big in the music industry, if you’re into that. He really wanted me to get into rap, and I think that’s how I ended up with the name… it didn’t work out.”

He loved his father, he truly did, but who actually named their son Slaine? Was it just a typo on his birth certificate? What sort of murderous destiny was planned for him anyway? He’d been left with big shoes to fill, which was why he worked under a mononym and tried to distance himself from his father’s reputation in the first place.

Whatever the case, his rhymes had never quite been up to par, and the pressure had really gotten to him when he was younger. Besides, he preferred to produce, to compose his own music, to be in control every step of the way. He sang for some of his songs, but he didn’t want to stand at a mic and belt out lyrics he didn’t believe in. Slaine understood that the industry for any genre would be fast-paced and stressful - that was business, right? - so if it was going to be like that, he’d rather give his all for something that he loved. He _wasn’t_ Dr. Troyard. He was Slaine.

“I hope that answers your question! While you’re here, would you like to enter your name for this week’s contest?” he asked the caller, pulling himself from his internal monologuing.

“Sure, sounds fun - I’m Klancain Cruhteo,” the other boy said over the line. “And that’s interesting, what you said about your father… I think he used to work at Vers Records with my Dad. Small world.”

…Cruhteo? He felt his eyelid begin to twitch. Cruhteo, as in the guy at Vers Records who had rejected every single one of his demos and never gave him proper feedback?

“Well, thanks for calling, Klancain! I wouldn’t be the person I am today if it weren’t for your father!” Slaine said hurriedly, then killed the call before things could get unprofessional. He had to resist.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Lemrina bite back a snicker. “That was mean! I’m providing you with a great opportunity here, Slaine Troyard.”

“You know what I meant,” the blond responded, with a good-natured grin.

Lemrina tossed her hair, and put the next song on before muting her mic. “I don’t mind. He and his father are insufferable at the company meetings. At least, when I used to attend those. Klancain is my sister’s boyfriend, which makes quite a bit of sense, I suppose. So don’t worry about anything he says, it’s not even worth the airtime.”

Despite everything, the twenty-three year old was still happy with the career he’d chosen. His father had been disappointed, understandably so, but he knew he wasn’t cut out for that life. However, ‘Slaine’ was clearly not working out to be a good DJ name.

 

* * *

 

**[Kill Your Radio]**

“And cut to commercials,” Slaine wheezed, lowering the volume of his mic as the song faded out. He queued up the ad track, which consisted of a few sixty-second audio clips from sponsors that promoted upcoming music contests and indie festivals. “Okay, game plan, Lemrina?”

“We’ll play some of your new demos, then take some more calls,” his co-host announced. “I really like your French house tracks. Oh, and I… I _borrowed_ my sister’s platinum certification plaque, so we can offer that up for this week’s giveaway. I got some concert tickets out of her manager, too, but we’ll have to play the ad for her tour in return.”

He paused, unsure if she was joking. “You should probably give that back. We can’t give that away on stream, we’ll get arrested!”

Lemrina smiled coyly, but didn’t answer him. “I also got you a signed vinyl, but you’ll have to help me re-dye my hair first.”

“You know I’ll do that anyway,” he said. “And thank you! You’re the best. But you can’t just change the subject!”

“Then we’ll leak her new single…” his co-host continued dreamily.

He chuckled. “Come on, let’s play fair, at least.”

“When is the music industry ever fair, Slaine? I really don’t know why you put her on such a pedestal.”

He couldn’t argue with the expert. But he had quite the soft spot for Asseylum’s albums, even if she supported Vers Records. And her music videos were always so cute! She was a pop princess, and whoever was producing for her was a genius. He wished he could be that good at it.

“Oh!” Lemrina handed him a flash drive. “I have the stems too, so if you hurry you can have the first remix out. Maybe then the song will be bearable.” She rolled her eyes at Slaine, as she picked up the phone to answer an incoming call. “And no, I didn’t _steal_ them, she gave them to me. I suffered through a family dinner for this, so you’d better be grateful.”

Slaine wasn’t sure if he believed her, but he was excited to get the opportunity nonetheless. Besides, she was his best friend. Lemrina always worked hard to support him, so he would work hard for her, too.

“Is this an Aldnoah drive?” he asked, glancing down at the tiny red memory stick that Lemrina had placed in his palm. Intellectual property of Vers Records. “This is encrypted, right? Do I even have access?” Slaine supposed he could try hacking it later, but it was better to ask.

“Do you really doubt me?” Lemrina said. Her eyes glinted with mischief. “I’ll get you the activation key before you leave tonight. I’d better answer this call. Hi, this is your host Lemrina at the Martian - ”

“Could I talk to Slaine?” So much for that.


	2. DISC 02 (CLUB MIX)

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**[Airbrushed]**

He only woke up to the incessant banging on his bedroom door, and even then, it was difficult.

Slaine’s face was planted into his MIDI controller, and the cold metal encoders were pressing into his forehead. “Ugh....” He pulled himself up from his desk and glanced at the disorder that lay around him. Cables were strewn across the floor, his laptop was teetering precariously at the edge of his bed, and his mini launchpad (a birthday gift from Lemrina, to practice his lights) was still looping samples and flashing in a bright array of blue and pink LED squares.

Another loud knock. “Slaine, don’t you have work today?” His roommate was in a rather charitable mood that morning, and had decided to try to wake him up instead of just leaving for his linguistics course.

“Morning, Kisaki,” he mustered, clicking out of the sequencing program on his desktop computer and unplugging all of his equipment from the wall sockets.

“You stayed up all night mixing again, didn’t you.”

Well, yeah. “I started getting really good ideas at around three in the morning,” Slaine said defensively. He stretched his thin arms out and stifled a yawn. “It’ll be worth it.”

“Getting sleep would probably have been good, too. Rent is due by the end of the week,” his roommate reminded him, from the other side of the door.

“I know, I know,” Slaine mumbled, wiggling into a particularly holey pair of jeans and pulling a big blue hoodie over his head (both articles of clothing had been retrieved from somewhere on the floor). “I won’t be late this time, I have it covered.” He’d just barely managed to scrape the money together, but it meant that he wouldn't be able to afford a better DAW for another month.

He haphazardly tossed his laptop and gear into a bag, threw his headphones around his neck, and burst out of the room.

His eyes were red and bloodshot, and he was also very, very sleepy. Contacts were not an option today, the blond mused, sliding a thick pair of glasses onto his face and gazing at his tired reflection in the mirror. He was glad that no one would be able to see him over the radio. Lemrina was not going to be very impressed, though, so he would buy her a fancy coffee to make up for it.

In any circumstance, the song was all that mattered, and he had to take inspiration as it came. She would understand.

 

* * *

  

**[Clearest Blue]**

Slaine had exported his work in progress to his music player (Tharsis5008_AAAHHH.WAV) so he could listen to it on his way to the coffee shop, and was reasonably satisfied with it so far. He’d have to cut some of the lower frequencies and tone down the bass later, but he was feeling more confident today.

He leaned over the counter, tapping his fingers on the granite as he placed his order for coffee.

“Hi, Slaine.”

“H-Hi!” He jolted from his trance and turned to greet the person behind him, automatically plastering a cheerful smile on as music continued to blast in his ears. It was the guy he’d bumped into a few days ago. At least he wasn’t holding a grudge about that incident. Slaine slipped his headphones off, to be polite. “Sorry, I just need to pay for this, then we can talk if you like!”

“Don’t worry, I can get it.” The other boy gestured with a credit card. “I’m having a meeting with some colleagues in a few minutes, two more coffees aren’t a problem.”

“No, you really don’t have to, I -” _I barely know you,_ he wanted to say, but he was tired and words weren’t coming out of his mouth the way he wanted them to.

Every time he saw this guy, he just didn’t feel presentable. And it wasn’t fair, because the other boy was always impeccable by comparison, clad in crisp dress shirts and neat blazers. Standing next to him, Slaine was especially self-conscious about that fact that he was a high school dropout who had left everything to follow a fruitless career in music. It seemed embarrassingly whimsical when reality struck.

The brunet shrugged. “It’s a thank you for dedicating that song to me last time.”

Slaine smiled shyly, as he fitted his two coffees in a to-go tray. “Did you like it? I didn’t know you listened to our show!”

The shorter boy inclined his head, then took a seat at the nearest empty table. “I like your originals, they’re very creative. You said you were planning to release an EP, right?”

He hummed. “I hope to, but it’s hard to get the resources and quality I want without support from a record label. It’s a slow process, but I want it to be perfect.” Being broke was not improving matters.

“That’s fair. How is the radio show going? I’ve been tuning in when I’m not busy.”

Slaine tried not to be overly passionate. “It’s been really good, to be honest. We’re getting an increase in listeners and we’re just having a lot of fun. There’s also been a lot of new people calling in.” He pushed his glasses back up his nose. “And now I might have a stalker,” he added, laughing as he thought about how the recent influx of phone calls had mostly been from one person, “but it’s nothing we can’t handle. Besides, if he likes my music, it can’t be too bad.”

“Ah,” his new acquaintance responded, with a serious nod. “Good luck with that. I’ll be sure to listen in later.”

“Thank you so much for the coffee,” he said. “I hope your meeting goes well!”

 

* * *

  

**[Que Veux-Tu]**

“Hey, this is Kisaki.”

“This is the radio station’s number. Can’t you just text me?” he groaned into the microphone. Slaine propped his elbows onto the surface of the desk and buried his face in his hands. What could possibly be so important that Kisaki would call him at work?

“Sorry, this is really short notice,” his roommate said apologetically. “Just wanted to let you know there’s an open DJ spot for that warehouse party I’m going to tonight. Thought you would be interested.”

“I haven’t mastered any of my tracks yet,” Slaine protested. “I mean, a few of my WIPs have gotten airplay here, but they’re not ready -”

“He’ll do it,” Lemrina interjected, making the decision for him. “He hasn’t done a live set in weeks.”

Kisaki chuckled. “Great! Could you make sure he gets some rest, Lemrina? I swear he doesn’t sleep.”

“Ugh, he’s so irresponsible, isn’t he?” his co-host said, with a little smirk. “But his music is good enough for a show. And he has to practice his live mashups, anyway.” Lemrina gave him the side-eye. “A live set by yourself doesn’t count. I know you’ve been practicing a routine, so don’t pretend you can’t do it. I can tell when you’re lying.”

Slaine didn’t fight it. She had a point - he’d been shying away from live performances, but it was an experience that any good DJ needed under their belt. He just wanted his songs to be absolutely flawless first, that was all. And he really wanted to focus on finishing his debut EP.

The next call came through just as his roommate hung up. “Hi, this is the Martian Invasion Station!” he said, in his best, most charismatic commentator voice.

“I’m coming for you, Slaine Troyard.”

It was impossible to maintain the charisma. “You _just_ called.” Slaine wished they could afford caller ID, then he could just ignore this guy.

“I don’t believe in love at first sight, but I’m making an exception for you, Slaine. And…” his caller trailed off.

“What?” he prompted, impatient.

The sound of paper rustling on the other end. “Do you live in a corn field? Because I’m stalking you.”

At least he admitted it.

“I can tell that you’re reading those off a list,” Slaine said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If you’re going to feed me pickup lines, at least try to sound like you mean it. You’re embarrassing yourself on a live broadcast.” _And me,_ was the silent addition. “I’m not exactly new to this. I’ve definitely had better.” (And then Lemrina had promptly jumped on the mic to destroy their hopes and dreams, while laughing.)

Why did people have to hit on him so much? Slaine blamed the boy band hair.

This guy had a cute voice, though, despite constantly sounding flat and bored. He seemed barely human enough to not be a robot, but that was a tough call. And he did sound familiar, although their audio setup wasn’t exactly state-of-the-art, so Slaine couldn’t be completely sure. His ears, and the distortion due to subpar equipment, were probably playing tricks on him.

“Try this line,” another voice chimed in over the speakers, “it suits your style more.”

“Ah, thanks Calm, but I think I’ve got it. Please return to your rehearsals.”

“Are you even listening?” Slaine barked, twisting the lid off of his water bottle.

“Yeah, and I think we should be dating,” the caller said matter-of-factly.

This was getting out of hand. He still had no idea who this person was, never mind whether or not he wanted to date him.

“I want to hear you beg, first,” he shot back smoothly, then ended the call.

Saucy.

“Sometimes,” Lemrina commented, pulling her mic down so she could speak into it, “I’m not sure if we run a radio drama or a music station.”

“That hurts.”

“Mhm. Next caller, please.”

 

* * *

  

**[The Safety Dance]**

Slaine slipped his headphones on and checked his setup on stage for the third time. He was a little jittery, but everything seemed to be performance ready and had tested through fine. He just had a launchpad, a secondary MIDI controller with encoders and sliders, and his laptop. Nothing too complicated.

His session view was prepped on the screen, all of his equipment was hooked up, and his sample clips were loaded and ready for live mixing. He even had a few backup CDs to put on the speakers in case something managed to crash anyway. That had happened before. He still got nightmares.

Slaine closed his eyes and took a deep breath, as he started his first mix. He needed something fast, uptempo. It wasn’t just pressing play on a song and scratching records. Some people thought it was so easy, that all a DJ did was mash two songs together and stand at a computer. Anyone could do that. This took careful planning… and a bit of improvisation.

Each square on the launchpad was mapped to a specific loop or sound; he had to be very nimble with his fingers, as well as be able to read his audience and gauge what kind of music they wanted to hear. It was about muscle memory, and recalling the patterns that his hands formed across the grid. Each drum rack, each synth, each sample clip was right at his fingertips. He just had to put them all together and make something worth listening to.

Slaine was awkward, but he certainly knew how to work a crowd. It wasn’t the same kind of pressure a _real_ concert was bound to have, because no one here knew him or had expectations, so it was good practice and he eased himself right into it after the first few songs.

He wished Lemrina had been able to attend, but she preferred to stay behind the scenes. It wasn’t pleasant trying to mosh in a wheelchair, she’d told him pointedly, though that didn’t stop her from supporting the genre.

He was thrilled to have such a positive reception to his new music, and despite his nerves he could tell that his live mashups had definitely improved. Slaine turned encoders and slid his faders to adjust the parameters for each channel, fingers flying over both MIDI controllers as he played his heart out. There were people cheering for _him,_ and it was the best feeling in the world.

“Thank you,” he said over the mic, flashing a bright smile to his audience. Slaine scanned the crowd, wondering if he could find his roommate somewhere, but someone else caught his eye.

He beamed, waving eagerly at the familiar face while he unplugged his setup from the sound system. There would be another DJ going up soon, so he put a mixtape on for the intermission before stepping off the small stage and heading over to greet his acquaintance.

He was dressed as neatly as always, and certainly stood out in the crowd, looking bored and out of place. Especially surrounded by all of that neon. A single orange glowstick rested idly in his hand, and at that moment Slaine thought it was the oddest thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re kind of cute,” the blond said, going out on a limb. He was half-shouting, trying to speak over the music that he’d set to ear-splitting levels. “Thanks for listening to my set! I was really nervous, to be honest. I know a lot of my original stuff hasn’t been fully mastered yet, so it’s not the cleanest it could have been, but I don’t think I did too badly.”

“I think you did fine. You must practice a lot. You’re less clumsy on stage than you are in real life.”

What was that supposed to mean? He felt himself blush, though thankfully it was dark. “I see you around a lot, these days. Are you ever going to tell me your real name? Or what you do? You know pretty much everything about me. That’s not fair.”

“I’ll tell you eventually,” the brunet said. He gestured with his glowstick. “Are you sure you don't already know me?”

Slaine laughed, as he swayed to the rhythm of the song. The strobe lights were a little tacky, casting bright neon beams across the venue in rapid flashes of colour, but he was enjoying himself, loosening up after a high energy set. He hadn’t had such a good time in months. It was certainly far less stressful than working on his EP and dealing with his stalker.

“I don’t think so,” he said. “Should I?”

The other boy smirked, ever so slightly. “You can figure it out later.”

Slaine made a face at him, but didn’t think much about it. “I’ll call you Orange, then, since your light stick is orange.” He could feel the thrum of the music, so loud that it resonated in his bones.

“That’s not very original, is it?”

“You should see some of the filenames for my songs then,” he responded, stepping in closer so they could talk better. The concrete flooring felt sticky on the soles of his sneakers, and empty cans and fading light sticks littered the warehouse. Not really a place he’d expect to find his friend. “So, Orange. Do you dance?”

The other boy didn’t skip a beat. “I will if you kiss me.”

“Oh,” Slaine said, arching his eyebrows, “that’s how you’re going to flirt?”

“I’ve been working on it. Apparently I’m too straightforward, and it annoys the person I like.”

He was feeling adventurous, still high off the adrenaline of having just performed live. “Well, maybe I can humour you tonight.”

The brunet was surprisingly soft against his mouth, and Slaine would be lying to himself if he said he didn't like how it felt.

Slaine kissed him fiercely, not particularly concerned about being seen in such a tightly packed area. It was hot, and he was sweaty after his set, and he sincerely hoped that he wasn’t going to regret this later. People did stuff like this all the time, right?

“Mm,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around his friend’s shoulders and crushing their lips together. He let the other boy slip his tongue into his mouth without any objections, and pressed his back to the wall as the brunet slid a warm hand along his chest.

“You’re skinny,” his friend observed, gently running his fingertips against Slaine’s ribcage before angling his head upward to suck on his tongue.

Slaine was completely sober, yet he felt his heart beating very fast as he tasted his friend’s mouth. He was warm and sweet, and there was something about the combination of music and spontaneity that made it irresistible.

“And you’re a good kisser, but you don’t dance very well,” he teased. “This is a house party, Orange. It’s electronic _dance_ music for a reason. We’re not at one of your boring business meetings.”

“I’m well aware, but I just like to listen.”

Strange. He would fix that. The song reached the drop and Slaine bounced on his feet excitedly, taking the other boy’s hands in his own and forcing him to move in time to the beat. “Well that’s too bad, isn’t it,” he whispered into the brunet’s ear, “because you promised me.”

He leaned down to kiss the other boy again, a little softer this time, eyelids closing shut as he followed the rhythm of the kick drum and felt the music vibrate through their bodies. This could be fun.

The brunet broke away right as the song ended, a sly little smile on his lips. “You’re not bad, huh.”

His cheeks felt hot, but he didn’t want to stop just yet. It was just a kiss. “Have you actually had better?” he retorted, reaching to adjust the headphones at his neck.

“Keep working on your music and I’ll tell you. I liked your usage of sample loops, and you had some interesting choices tonight, but your beatmatching still needs some work.”

Playing coy was _definitely_ working for Orange.

 

* * *

 

**[Endless Fantasy]**

The studio smelled like hair dye. As agreed, Slaine had come over early (after sleeping through five alarms) to help his friend with her hair. Lemrina was insistent on looking nothing like her sister, so she coloured it regularly to cover the blonde roots. Purple was her colour of choice this month.

“That looks… so good,” he said admiringly, as he ran a brush through his best friend’s hair.

“Good enough for me to be the face of an album cover, don’t you think? If you get a haircut you can be in it too.”

He had to smile. She had an odd way of complimenting him. “The cover for our breakthrough single. Slaine featuring Lemrina?”

She sniffed. “You mean _Lemrina,_ featuring Slaine.”

“Well, as long as we agree that I produced it,” he said, always willing to accommodate his good friend. “Here’s your hairband.”

Lemrina settled the black Alice band over her head, and Slaine helped wheel her over to her radio setup. “Let’s run our show, Troyard.”

Everything proceeded smoothly for the first half of the day. Slaine played demo tracks from his upcoming EP, they gave some airtime to promising indie songs, and the broadcasting duo announced new contests and prizes for their show.

Then, of course, came the phone call. At this point, they both expected it, and were suitably prepared.

Lemrina slid a cup of coffee over to him. “It’s a _little_ entertaining, I have to admit,” she said. “And for some reason it increases our listener count, so it’s not exactly a bad thing.”

Slaine laughed weakly, shoulders trembling with the kind of silent hysteria that only came with excessive album-related stress and daily phone calls from stalkers.

“Where were we?” he asked his caller, making sure he spoke clearly into the mic. “You know I’m not going to date you.”

“I thought about what you said, and I decided that I’m not the type of person who begs, Slaine. I usually find other ways to get what I want.”

“So you’re threatening me on a live broadcast.” He doubted any of their listeners would be especially eager to leap to his defence, but he knew that Lemrina had his back. Slaine wasn’t afraid of receiving any actual consequences, in any case - this guy was all talk. He could play.

“I’ve never fallen so hard,” his caller confessed. “I was going to wait it out longer, but I have an interesting offer for you. If you want - and I think you do, I can get you signed with UFE. On that condition.”

He paused. Vers’ main competitor? Definitely too good to be true. “That sounds really suspicious,” Slaine said. He had morals, somewhere. But that would show Vers for rejecting him in the first place.

“Would you rather stay at the radio station forever?” the other boy asked him. “This is a good opportunity for you to branch out on your own merit. Think about it.”

Lemrina, meanwhile, had gone from laughing to simply staring open-mouthed at her laptop. “Slaine, when were you going to tell me about this?”

“Tell you about what?”

She whipped her head around to glare at him, and he flinched. “Oh, I don’t know, about the fact that you know Kaizuka Inaho?”

“Who?” Slaine felt bewildered.

“Look, this could be huge. It’s not a joke. I can’t believe - you need to get off those blogs and do proper research!” his co-host exclaimed, smacking him on the arm. “How did you even get his attention? I mean, I know he helped get underground artists signed to UFE but we’re nowhere near his level at this point in our careers.”

He took a contemplative sip of his coffee. “I… have _no idea_ what you’re talking about. Isn’t this a strange way to recruit someone, regardless?”

“That’s just how he works. He’s got more cred than my sister’s manager, Eddelrittuo,” Lemrina explained, wringing her hands in exasperation. “And she’s amazing, the youngest in the business. You must know her, at the very least.”

“Of course I do, but this guy is a stalker,” Slaine pointed out. “I hate to be picky, but I think that’s a dealbreaker in most cases. Even if I am extremely desperate.”

Lemrina shook her head vigorously. He’d never seen her so enthusiastic about something. Where had her sarcasm disappeared to? “Well, I heard he’s not very personable, but he’ll make sure you succeed. You know Rayet Areash? She left Vers on his advice, and he got her a contract with UFE almost right away. Or... hmm... that new idol group with the Canadian singer - their sound is rather manufactured but they’re very well put together.”

“You know a lot about pop,” he commented, still not on the same page as his friend.

“Not all mainstream pop is bad,” she countered. Said the indie synthpop solo artist. “My sister’s music is terrible, obviously, but the genre sells for a reason. Kaizuka is good at picking up on what’s popular. He knows what works. I told you your music was good, you just needed to get noticed!” A wry smile. “And my sister just _loves_ him, but he’s never going to manage her. She’s stuck with Vers for life, since she’ll be inheriting the company.”

The blond nodded, suddenly understanding her eagerness. “That’s why you like him.”

“No,” Lemrina giggled, “he really is very good at his job. I’m excited for you. This is a big step up from what we’re doing here, Slaine. He sent us his credentials, it’s legitimate.” She motioned to her computer screen. “Are you sure you don’t know him?”

He got a good look at the resume, and felt his entire body freeze. He easily recognized the face in the headshot: the same bored expression, the same neat brown hair, and the same sweet lips that he certainly knew - intimately - after last night.

“...You’ve got to be kidding me,” he squeaked, after an extended period of choking on his coffee. “I kissed that guy after my set. At the warehouse party.” Slaine chewed nervously at the inside of his mouth, as his career disintegrated before his eyes. “I had no idea that he was a talent manager.”

“Oh, Slaine.” Lemrina was appalled. “You would!”

“I’m sorry! He started it! He’s slightly attractive in dimly lit areas after DJ sets.” Which was no excuse, but Slaine was panicking and couldn’t think of anything remotely intelligent to say.

“You’re still live,” Kaizuka interjected. “Is it a date or not?”

“Uh,” Slaine said. Lemrina gave him a nudge as he fidgeted with the mic. “Could you… Could you pick me up at seven? I think you have a good idea as to where we’re located.”

“Dinner?” Inaho asked. “Or would you like to continue from where we left off last night?”

“A bit of both is acceptable,” the blond said, hedging his bets. “But this is about music, right?”

Lemrina eyed him sardonically. “I am going to make the executive decision to cut today’s stream short so I can at least make sure you’re presentable. You wore that shirt yesterday!”

It was still clean. “Laundry day is on Wednesday,” he whispered.

“Slaine,” said Lemrina, “you are awful. Go get changed right now.”

He grinned. “Will you come rescue me if this doesn’t work out?”

She gave an imperious little nod. “Of course. And don’t think you’re signing any contracts until I say you can.”

 

* * *

  

**[Make Them Gold]**

It was intimidating, but strangely flattering, to know that someone so high profile wanted to go out with him.

“I really wish you would have just told me who you were in the first place. I would have been nicer on the radio.” Slaine was still mortified about that.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to figure it out. But it turns out that I’m impatient, and UFE is looking to sign a new artist this month. They’ll ask me for my recommendations first, so it’s yours if you want it.”

“Do you normally date everyone you scout?” he said sheepishly. “Or is this the only reason you’re offering to help me, because you want to date me? Although I don’t know why you’d pick me, if you’re so important.”

“Of course not. I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t think you were talented. You also just happen to be exactly my type, so I thought this would be efficient,” Inaho responded, then stood up on his tiptoes to bring his lips to Slaine’s ear, as if to whisper a dirty little secret. “I hope you brought your demos. There’s a lot of work to do.”

Slaine smiled as Inaho wrapped an arm around his waist. He always brought mixtapes to his dinner dates.

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**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for joining me on this meme adventure, and have a great day! The Slaine + Lem Capsule-esque broship was so fun to write (and yes by extension that makes Seylum Kyary, because Slaine is Nakata aw yeah)! Anyway I hope all the DJ equipment stuff made sense, I wanted it to feel legit without being overbearing haha. I am no DJ, so I do apologize if I got anything wrong ^^ Bottom line though: Slaine confirmed dextrous enough to operate multiple MIDI controllers at once, yet still unable to smoothly unbutton Inaho’s shirt when it really counts. See you around :)


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